


Not a Hero's Story

by SuperSecretSquirrel (PeregrineDubh)



Category: Wrath of the Titans (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:01:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25880236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineDubh/pseuds/SuperSecretSquirrel
Summary: You carry my heart. Guard it well and return it to me.
Relationships: Ares/OFC, Ares/Original Character
Kudos: 5





	Not a Hero's Story

Her name was Cahan Nic Neit, but he didn’t find that out for hours and hours after their first meeting. He thundered down outside her cottage in the hills, furious at the intrusion of a foreign power into his territory. 

Her protests that she wasn’t there to fight were lost in his roar of anger as he swung his war hammer at her head, and the clash as she deflected it with a leaf bladed sword that came from nowhere. From there she met him blow for blow, and blood for blood. Her skill and her whipcord strength and speed evened a field that should have been unequal. Somewhere in the dance of battle and the song of weapons ringing together fury gave way to desire and a grudging respect. He found himself pushed back as their weapons locked together. Eyes the color of the Aegean sea sparked at him from inches away. “I am not here to fight you. I just want to be left alone!” Her anger was magnificent. 

His warhammer disappeared as he tangled his hand in copper red hair and lunged forward to kiss his opponent. Her sword disappeared from hers as she jerked back and caught him with a wicked right hook that staggered him. Blood dripped from split lips as they stared at each other for a long moment. That same blood smeared across their mouths and skin as they clashed back together in something that was as much a fight as it was a kiss. In this too, she matched him, meeting passion for passion. 

The sun was dipping low on the horizon when they lay side by side, bruised, battered and exhausted. The woman laughed. She rolled up onto her elbow, eyes bright and bloody teeth bared as she grinned. “I am Cahan Nic Neit. daughter of the Irish god of battle.”

“Ares, god of war.” He reached up to clasp her offered arm in a warrior’s grasp.

“I gathered as much.” Cahan flopped back to rest under the darkening sky. “Aren’t you supposed to be married?”

“I was. She’s gone now. Faded and lost.” Ares turned his head to stare at Cahan’s sharp profile. 

“My condolences.” Cahan responded. She glanced over to meet his eyes. “My father faded. It’s why I came here. His wife didn’t exactly like me, and I just wanted to live in peace. I hadn’t thought that you’d take offense to my presence.”

“A daughter of war wanting to live in peace?” Ares laughed. “I would never have believed it. I thought you had come as an invader, not an immigrant.”

“Peace is often the offspring of war.” Cahan shrugged. She hauled herself to her feet. “I need to bathe. Thanks for the fight. And the tumble. It was fun.”

He found himself following her to the stream, to a small pool in the rocks. His hands were uncharacteristically gentle as he helped her wash away the blood, sweat and dirt. Her hands were gentle too, and when they came together again in the cool water, it was a languid exploration of pleasure. 

He had never intended to return to the remote cottage, with its sharp and slender occupant, but he did. Over and over he returned, drawn by the bluest eyes, and sunset hair. She wasn’t beautiful, not in the way that his family would have appreciated. Her face was too sharp. Her body was all hard angles and lean muscle with little softness to it. But to him she was glorious, a well honed weapon, graceful and bright as her sword. Sometimes when he came to her they fought, testing their skills against each other in joyous combat. Other times they simply existed, and the daughter of battle taught the god of war about peace. 

One night, as they lay together in the cool grass with the stars arching above Ares realized that he loved the flame haired warrior at his side, and hard on the heels of that he realized that she would age and die. And that he, weakened as the humans turned from the gods, could do nothing to prevent it. If Cahan noticed that Ares held her that much more intensely, she made no mention of that fact. 

When Hades approached Ares with Chronos’ offer to exchange his freedom in return for the god’s continued immortality and power, he agreed. It was his chance for eternity with his flame haired love, and the only way to protect her from Chronos’ wrath when the Titan escaped Tartarus. He was careful not to allow his uncle to know why he was so eager to agree, lest Cahan become a pawn in the game afoot.

When he told her of his plan she shook her head. “No, Ares. Don’t do this. One mortal life is enough. Stay here with me.” She took his hand and led it to lie on her stomach, still flat and hard beneath his palm. “Stay with us.”

As the meaning of her words sank into him, elation sparked through his veins. He swept her into his arms and spun her in a circle. When he set her on her feet again he looked into her sapphire eyes.

“I have to do this, my love. For you. For our child.” He kissed her lips. “As Zeus’ power begins to wane, so to do the things that he has built. Chronos will escape eventually, and this is how I can safeguard you both.”

Cahan sighed and laid her head against her lover’s chest. “Very well. Only come back to me, Ares. You carry my heart. Guard it well and return it to me.” 

In the end, when Perseus stabbed their father’s lightning bolt through his chest, Ares whispered her name to the wind with his last breath. Leagues away Cahan heard his dying whisper, and cried out as her heart ceased to beat, never to return to her side. 

* * *

Hades had wandered for half a year after the battle with Chronos, before coming to the tiny cottage in the hills. He couldn’t have said what it was, but something called him to the remote hills. When the slender, copper-haired woman answered his knock upon the door, a babe with raven curls and eyes as blue as the sea in her arms, he knew what had drawn him. 

“Welcome, uncle.” Cahan smiled sadly at the tall, almost gaunt man at her door. “I’m Cahan Nic Neit, and this is your grand nephew, Taichleach Mac Ares.”


End file.
